


Baby, It's You

by Bearandleonardwrite



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Football Player Louis, Halloween, Harry in Panties, M/M, Model Harry, New Year's Eve, Rimming, The best movie theater ever, christmas kinda, think that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 20:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearandleonardwrite/pseuds/Bearandleonardwrite
Summary: "Oh, yeah. Um..” Harry lets his hands fall to his sides. His brows furrow, face full of concern, and he asks, “You’re not, like, stalking me, are you?”Louis can’t help the loud cackle that escapes his lips and immediately slaps one of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my god, Harry, no!” Louis tells him, a little breathlessly, giggles still bubbling out of his chest. “Lottie’s one of the makeup artists here today and she somehow got me to agree to come. I had no idea you modeled for, uh.. this brand until I saw you walk.”“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, eyebrows still pinched. He lets what Louis just said sink in before a bright grin takes over his face and he goes back to doing up the buttons on his shirt. “Well, that’s alright, then. I’m glad you could make it.(Basically, Louis' a footie player for Man U and Harry's a YSL model. They meet at a masquerade.)





	Baby, It's You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. I'm back from the dead.  
> I wrote this a year and a half ago for a friend who left the fandom before I finished it. She no longer wants it but she says to post it so here you go  
> I should also note that in this AU homophobia in the footie world is slim to none now.

“C’mon, Louis, you have to come,” Lottie whines from the doorway to his bedroom. 

Louis’ lying on his bed, having just woken up from a nap. “No, I don’t think I do,” he mumbles as he rolls onto his stomach and buries his face in the pillow. 

Lottie lets out a frustrated huff and walks into his room, sits down on the end of his bed. “You already said you would. If you don’t come now, you’ll be going against your word and that’s not like you.” 

“I don’t remember ever agreeing to this. You’re lying.” 

“No, I’m not! You said you would when I asked you at my birthday party.” 

“Was I drunk?” Louis questions as he props himself up on one of his elbows. He cranes his neck to look at her and quirks an eyebrow. “If I was drunk, I don’t think it should count.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” she mumbles. And she’s _lying_. Louis knows this, so he fixes her with his best reprimanding look until she sighs and her shoulders slump. “Ugh, fine, yes. That doesn’t mean you can get out of it, though!” She continues just as Louis’ about to celebrate his victory. “You can’t make up new rules because you don’t want to go. You said you would, so you have to.” 

She’s looking at him with wide eyes and she’s even brought out the pout. It’s a hopeless fight for Louis, really. With a heavy sigh, he lets his head drop back down to his pillow. “Fine, I’ll go,” he agrees, voice muffled from the fabric. 

Lottie squeals and pounces on him for an impromptu hug. “Oh my god! Thank you, thank you, thank you. I won’t ever make you do anything else. Promise!” 

“For some reason I highly doubt that. Now, get off! I’ve got things to do,” Louis complains and sits himself up, effectively breaking their hug. He gets off the bed and slips on some joggers and a t-shirt. “Anyways, when is this thing?” 

“It's for Halloween. Honestly, Louis, you never remember anything,” Lottie says with a roll of her eyes. “And you need a tux. Do you have one, or do we have to go shopping?” 

Louis looks up from where he’s tying his Converse. “Hallo- that’s in like 4 days. Why didn’t you say something earlier? And what? What do you mean I need a tux? No, I don’t have one. Why can’t I just wear the suit I wore to mum’s wedding?” 

“Ugh, fine, you can wear that. I’m pretty sure everyone’s going to be wearing black, though. And we still have to go shopping. It’s a masquerade and unless you have masks lying around, we’ll have to get you one. Plus, I want you to help pick out my dress.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis mutters under his breath. “Who’s paying for all this? Never mind. I know the answer. Yeah, fine, I can help, but I don’t know why you can’t have Sophia go with you instead.” 

Lottie rolls her eyes and flops down on the bed. “Sophia’s in Wolverhampton with Liam for the rest of the week. That’s why you have to go with me to the ball, too. She’s taking him and I’m definitely _not_ going by myself.” 

“So, taking your brother is the next best option. Right.” Louis grabs his training kit and stuffs the articles of clothing into his workout bag along with his footie boots. “Okay, I have to go to training. I’m already late. You can stay here if you want, but it’ll be a couple hours. We can go to the shops tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Hm, yeah, I’ll stay here. Why are you training now? Doesn’t that happen in the morning?” 

“Most of the time, yes. Coach moved it today because he had a press conference or something. I dunno,” Louis explains with a shrug. He really doesn’t care. He got to sleep in, so he counts it as a win. “Anyways, I’m off. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

 

Training goes surprisingly well considering it’s only his third, maybe fourth, training session with the first team. When he had gotten signed on to Man U, he’d been placed in the second squad but he managed to work his way up within a year. The new manager getting rid of three out of four of their main defensive line probably had something to do with it as well. He just ignores that bit. 

It’s still hard for him to feel like he deserves this, like he really should be on the first squad. There’s a lot to live up to, what with Vidić and Ferdinand having been key defenders since just recently. It just gives him more of a reason to train hard and prove to his manager, the team, and the fans that he was the right man for the job. He can totally do this, he thinks. 

***

 

After a grueling week of training, the last thing Louis wants to do is go to this dumb masquerade ball. Of course he’s going to, though. He did promise after all. It’s just- well, it seems kind of like wasting Halloween. It’s not really like he’d be doing anything besides playing Fifa and ignoring his diet, but still. Either way he’s already agreed and he’s got his suit on, so he decides to make the most of it. Which basically means getting proper smashed and maybe dancing with a fit bloke. 

The dress Lottie had decided on is a deep red, princess dress with rhinestones on the bodice. He thinks maybe it's not technically called a princess dress, but she definitely looks like a princess so he thinks it's okay. Her other option had been a dress far too short for his liking and he'd agreed to pay the extra £300 in order to sway her away. He's not too miffed, really, his new position pays more than enough. 

“Alright, now all we need is the masks and we're good to go,” Lottie says once she's finished putting on her shoes. 

Louis grabs them from the top of the dresser and hands Lottie hers before putting his on. Lottie’s is a black one that covers the top half of her face and has intricate gold detailing around the edges. There's a feather stuck to the right top corner, the same color as her dress, and black glitter around her eyes. It's really quite pretty. 

His covers half his face as well, but it's much less extravagant. It's white around his eyes and on the bridge of his nose with golden swirls. The rest is a dark, golden color that melds into black around the edges. He thought it would probably, most definitely go better with a black suit, but the color of his eyes really pops so he couldn't turn it down. 

Louis had rented them a driver to get them to and from the event because he doesn't plan on being sober enough to drive by the end of the night. Plus, it made Lottie really happy which makes him happy in turn. She's been so excited about this whole thing that it's actually rubbing off on him. And he figures splurging every once in awhile isn't a bad idea. 

When they get to the ball they're assigned to a table, which they find rather quickly. They're both offered some rather expensive champagne while they wait for their dinner. Louis takes it happily. 

The food isn't bad, but it's far too fancy for his taste. And the portion sizes are hardly enough. He doesn't think a toddler would even be satisfied. 

After the dinner is over, they're all ushered into a ballroom that's been heavily decorated to set the tone. It's all really nice and halfway through he finds he doesn't mind it as much. He's not even a little bit tipsy, so that's saying something. 

Louis loses Lottie towards the end of the night. It's not really surprising seeing as how it's a ball for the folks in her line of work, so she probably knows most of the guests at least somewhat. Lottie works as a makeup artist for some big modeling company Louis never bothered to remember the name of. Originally she'd wanted to model herself, but found the behind the scenes work much more exciting. And she's really good at it. 

He makes his way over to the bar and orders himself another glass of champagne. When he’s got it in hand, he turns and leans back against the bar and scans the floor in search of someone appealing. There’s not really many that catch his eye, and the ones that do, well, they’re attached to someone else. It’s kind of disappointing, but also oddly comforting. 

Louis doesn’t remember the last time he was with someone, before he got signed to a proper club most definitely, so he doesn’t really know how he’d go about flirting, let alone trying to pick someone up. He has to worry about things like ‘his image’ now and casual hookups don’t really go in favor of that. But, no one can see his face and unless they’re avid fans, which he doubts considering where he’s at, he could probably get away without tarnishing his good name, or whatever. Plus, the majority of them have their own images to worry about. 

Well, that last thought makes him frown into his glass and take a seat on one of the stools at the bar. Of course they all have their images to think about, so, like, pulling is definitely out of the question. For the better, he thinks, because he needs to focus on training and making sure he does his best to prove he deserves this position. 

Just as he’s about to ask for another drink, maybe something stronger like rum, a man sidles up beside him and waves the bartender over. “I’ll have another Raspberry Cosmo, please, and, uh, whatever he’s having,” the man says and then gestures towards Louis. Which. What. 

The bartender turns to Louis, then, impatiently waiting for his answer. “I- uh,” Louis clears his throat and looks to the man standing next to him briefly before turning back to the bartender. “Jack and Coke, thanks.” They don’t say anything while they wait, both of them just watching the bartender mix their drinks. 

Once their drinks have been placed in front of them, the man slides a five over the bar, which the bartender takes and pockets. It's an open bar so, like, this man isn't _really_ buying Louis a drink, but he did just tip the barman so he kind of did? Whatever. Louis doesn't want to try and figure out this guy's intentions because it's making his head hurt. And it's so much easier to just talk to the guy. So that's what he does. 

Louis takes a sip of his drink and hums in appreciation before turning on the stool so he's now facing the man. “Cheers, mate. Appreciate it,” he says and then takes another sip. 

The man smiles brightly at him, a dimple appearing on his cheek. “No problem,” he says in a slow, deep voice. He takes a drink of his pink cocktail and Louis takes that moment to let his gaze wander over him. 

He's wearing a black suit, half the buttons of his shirt undone and showing off his chest and tattoos, with a gold, silk scarf hanging around his neck in place of a tie. His hair is long, almost to his shoulders, and it falls in ringlets. The mask he's wearing is just a simple black and only covers the skin around his eyes, the rest of his face exposed. He's got really nice, pink lips and beautiful green eyes that Louis’ fairly certain would look much better without the distraction of his mask. 

Louis lets his gaze wander down the man’s torso and long legs, then lets out a little cackle when he sees the man’s shoes. “Oh my god. Your shoes match my mask,” he makes out between laughs. 

The man raises his eyebrows and looks down at his shoes, sets his glass down on the bartop. “They match my personality,” the man says seriously. 

“I'm sorry, what?” Louis questions and snaps his gaze back up to meet his eyes. 

“Heart of gold and a sparkling personality,” he explains, then bites at his bottom lip to try and hold back his smile. It doesn't work. 

Louis actually giggles at that because, seriously? What even is this guy. “Alright. I'll take your word for it, then. I'm Louis,” he introduces and holds his hand out. 

The man takes his hand and holds on a bit longer than necessary. “Harry,” the man- Harry- says and then drops his hand. He worries his bottom lip between two of his fingers and looks around the room for a moment. “Have I charmed you enough into having a drink with me?” He asks once he's locked gazes with Louis again. 

“Ah, but we already are having a drink.” Louis motions to Harry's drink that's sitting on the bar and the one he's still holding. 

“Right,” Harry says through a smile and then sits on the stool next to Louis. “You could've just taken the drink and left, though.”

“Mm, true. Not one to turn down a free drink, though. Especially not one from a fit bloke.” Louis hums and takes another sip of his drink. 

“You think I’m fit?” Harry asks, bottom lip pulled between his teeth again. 

Louis lets his eyes roam over Harry’s body, gaze lingering on Harry’s exposed chest for a moment. “Quite.” 

Harry looks at him from underneath his lashes, bottom lip still between his teeth, his eyes shining. “Thank you. You're quite fit, too, if I'm being honest. Though, I'm sure you're much more beautiful when you're not hiding behind a mask.” 

Louis clucks his tongue. “Not supposed to reveal till midnight, dear Harold. Don't think I'm not on to you,” Louis says as seriously as he can manage, one finger wagging in Harry's direction in reprimand. 

Harry holds his hands up in surrender. “Right, right. How could I forget?” He rolls his eyes at himself and takes a sip of his drink, tongue darting out to lick up the drop that was left behind. “That just means I'll have to stick around until then,” he says hopefully, question in his eyes. 

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Louis tells him as a smirk slides across his lips. He goes to say something, maybe flirt a little more, when something collides with his back. “Shit,” he hisses as some of the liquid from his drink sloshes over the side of his glass and down his hand. 

Harry takes the drink from his hand and sets it down on the bartop, then leans over the bar and grabs a few napkins from the pile sitting behind the bar. That's probably, like, stealing, but it's awfully nice and Louis doesn't mind much. Instead of handing Louis the napkins, Harry goes about cleaning Louis’ hand himself and even cleans off the side of his glass. Heart of gold indeed, it seems. 

When his hands finally mostly clean, Louis turns his head to see what the culprit was. There's a group of men huddled by the bar right next to Louis. They're talking far too loudly and they're all proper smashed. Louis rolls his eyes and turns back to face Harry just as he's hit in the back again. Apparently wrestling is a thing that's happening now. 

Louis lets out a huff and gets out of his seat only to walk around Harry and sit on his other side, blissfully out of the line of fire. Harry slides his drink in front of him and smiles at him. “Sorry about that,” Harry mumbles, staring down into his pink drink. 

“Why are you sorry?” Louis asks with one eyebrow quirked. 

“I dunno. I work with them, so I feel oddly obligated to apologize,” Harry says with a little shrug, eyebrows furrowed. “That doesn't really make sense. Sorry.” 

Louis chuckles at that and rests his hand on Harry's arm. “It's fine. If I had to apologize for everything someone I worked with has done, we'd be here for ages.”

Harry smiles at him, cheeks tinting pink to match his drink. “Are you a model, too? I mean, you definitely look it, but aren't you just an inch or two shy of the norm?” 

Louis gasps in mock offense, pulling his hand away from Harry's arm to clutch at his chest. “How very dare you. I am the _perfect_ height, thank you very much. Model or not.” He sniffs haughtily and turns his nose up. Very good with dramatics, he is. If he weren't a footie player, he'd probably be an actor. Or something. 

“I wasn't- well, like- I'm, uh. Sorry? I don't think you're short or anything. I'm just saying because I'm, like, technically at the ‘short end’ for a model and you're a little shorter than me, y'know? So, I was, like, I don't know. Sorry. I'm sure you're a great model, really. Forget I said anything. I'm so sorry. I wasn't trying to offend you. Promise!” Harry rambles out, cheeks going from pink to red in embarrassment. 

And, like, Louis wasn't actually offended and he feels kind of bad now for making Harry think he was. Oops. Harry's still rambling, gesturing wildly like that will get his point across more than his words, so Louis grabs one of his hands and holds it with both of his own. That's gets Harry to stop talking, mouth audibly snapping shut. “You haven't offended me, Harry. I don't mind.”

“I- uh, are you sure? I really didn't mean anything by it and I just-”

“Really. I'm positive,” Louis interrupts and squeezes Harry's hand. “It's fine. I don't mind. I was kidding, anyways.”

Harry looks at him hesitantly, like he's afraid he's lying, before letting out a sigh and squeezing Louis’ hands back. “Okay. I'm glad I didn't offend you. That's good.” Louis hums, so Harry clears his throat and asks, “What brand, by the way? If you were with me, I wouldn't have forgotten you.” 

Louis smiles, teeth full on display and eyes crinkling. “I don't model, actually. Seems I don't meet the height requirements,” he says with a roll of his eyes. 

“Bastards. They don't know what they're missing,” Harry plays along. “So, what do you do, then?” He asks after a few beats of silence. 

“Oh! I'm a footie player. Sorry, should've said that.”

“Oh, really?” Harry asks excitedly, face lighting up. “What position? What team? Are you, like, proper famous, then? Am I gonna be leaving here only to find out I missed a chance with the next Beckham?” 

Louis scoffs and rolls his lips into his mouth to stop from smiling. It doesn't really work. “Yeah, right. No, definitely not. Don't think I'm quite that good. As for the rest of your questions, defender, Man U, and no, not really. I only get recognized by the hardcore fans. ‘M new. Sort of.” 

Harry's face is still lit up, beautiful smile spreading over his cheeks. “I happen to be a hardcore Man U fan,” he says proudly and then frowns a tiny bit. “Though, I might have to rethink that since I can't say I recognize you and beauty like that is not something one forgets.” 

Louis can't help the little giggle that bubbles out of his chest and the smile that's threatening to split his face in half. It's just so _cheesy_ and stupid and _sweet_. “Oh stop,” he says and smacks Harry on the shoulder halfheartedly. “Your memory is just fine in any case. I've yet to start a game in the premier league. Actually, I get my first start sometime next month, if all goes well.” 

“That's great, Louis! I'm sure you'll do brilliant. Man U doesn't sign crap players- well, most of the time, so I know you've got this. You'll be amazing,” Harry tells him. 

And, like, they just met and Harry's probably never seen him play so he doesn't even _know_ , but for some reason he's still so sure. It makes Louis feel a little bit better about himself and little more like he can do this. It's silly and ridiculous, but he can't help it. He feels better about himself. He feels good. That's probably why he ends up saying, “Maybe I could get you tickets to the game? Y'know, if you want?” 

“Like, the first game you start?” 

“I mean, well, if they let me know in advance, then, yeah,” Louis says a little sheepishly. He looks down at where he's still holding onto Harry's hand and plays with his fingers. 

“Yeah, that'd be- please?” Harry breathes, eyes sparkling enough to rival his shoes. Louis nods at him and laces their fingers together. 

 

They sit there talking about nothing and everything for another hour. Louis learns more about Harry than he knows about most people, and he tells him just as much about himself. Everything with Harry feels so natural and comfortable, which is kind of ridiculous because he's only known him the better part of two hours and he hasn't even seen his entire face yet. It's ridiculous, really, but Louis’ already so smitten. 

It's nearly going on midnight and they're pressed tightly together where they're still sitting at the bar. The rest of the party's been forgotten, along with their drinks, but they don't care much, too wrapped up in each other. There's only about five minutes before the clock strikes 12 and Louis’ getting antsy. He wants nothing more than to be able to take his mask off and to take off Harry's, to be able to see all of the beautiful boy in front of him. (Well, his face that is. He'll work on the rest later.) 

They're having a heated discussion about whether or not Müller would beat Hazard at penalty kicks when Lottie plasters herself to Louis’ back. Louis stops in the middle of explaining how Müller’s boots probably have something to do with his abilities (which is honestly a load of shit, but Harry’s listening attentively anyways) and turns to look at her. “What's up, Lots?” 

“I think I'm gonna be sick,” she mumbles sadly into Louis’ shoulder. 

Louis reaches a hand back to pet at her hair. “I'm sorry, love. You wanna go home?”

“Please? I'm sorry. I think the floor is gonna swallow me. Oh my god,” she whines as she clings onto Louis’ biceps. 

Louis lets out a little snort and pats her head. “You'll be alright,” he says kindly before getting up. Lottie's arms wrap around his middle instantly and she sways a bit at the sudden movement. 

Harry stands up, too, brows furrowed in concern. “Is she alright? Do you need help?” 

“Cheers,” Louis says as he gets one of her arms around his neck and motions at Harry to do the same.

Harry frowns at the both of them for a moment before he ducks down to talk to Lottie. “Can I pick you up, miss? Is that alright?” 

Lottie opens her eyes long enough to look at him, but promptly squeezes them shut. “Fuck, everything is spinning.”

Harry straightens up and looks to Louis. “Can I?” 

Louis shrugs. “Yeah, that's fine. Just don't drop her. And if you do, make sure it's not too hard.”

That startles a giggle out of Harry, but he bends down and hooks one of his arms behind Lottie's knees and the other he slips around her upper back. “Gonna pick you up now,” he says before he does just that. 

Lottie makes an utterly pathetic noise and mumbles, “I take no responsibility if I throw up on you.” It makes Harry's eyes go wide as saucers, but he just takes a deep breath and starts walking through the crowd and towards the front doors. (If Louis hangs behind them the whole way, it's definitely _not_ because Harry has the cutest little bum he's ever seen. Probably. Maybe.) 

Louis had called the car around while they were walking to the front, so they only have to wait a couple minutes for it to arrive. When the car does arrive, Louis opens the backdoor and steps out of the way so Harry can get passed and settle Lottie onto the seat. After he's got her in the car, it takes Harry about five minutes to untangle his hands from all the tulle of her dress. Louis is decidedly unhelpful, seeing as how he can't stop giggling at the disgruntled look on Harry's face and the way Lottie keeps whining because she's being jostled and, “Jesus _Christ_ , please hurry up. You're making everything spin.” 

Harry finally extracts himself from the Tulle of Doom and straightens up so he's standing next to Louis again. Louis’ still trying to recover from his giggles and the glare Harry shoots his way doesn't really help. He looks more like a disgruntled kitten than anything else and it's just so _cute_ , Louis can't help it. “Thank you for doing that. You didn't have to,” Louis says once he's finally done laughing. 

“Yeah, it's fine. I'm glad I could help.” Harry's cheeks are flushed, probably from the exertion, but the pink on his cheeks is beautiful. He's beautiful. 

They stare at each other for a few moments, not really wanting to say goodbye, but not sure what else there really is to say. The decisions made for them a couple seconds later when Lottie groans from inside the car and slumps so far forward she nearly hits her head on the seat in front of her. Harry's quick to catch her, though, and sit her up again. “Maybe you guys should get going,” Harry mumbles while he pushes Lottie's hair away from her face. 

“Yeah, probably best get this one home,” Louis says. 

Harry buckles Lottie in and then closes the door. He walks Louis to the other side and opens the door for him. “Make sure she gets plenty of water. And probably something for her head tomorrow.” 

Louis hums and spares a glance over at Lottie. She's already asleep, slumped uncomfortably against the door with her head resting against the window. “Yeah, I'll do that. Thank you again. Really. I appreciate it.”

Harry smiles at him and shrugs one of his shoulders. “It's fine. I don't mind.” 

It takes Louis all of two seconds to decide and then he's leaning up and kissing Harry on the cheek. Harry absolutely beams at that and looks down at his toes, probably a little bit flustered. “I'll call you, yeah? Thanks, Harry.” Louis gets in the car and once he's buckled his belt, Harry closes the door for him. 

It's only once they've gotten home, Lottie tucked into bed in his guest bedroom with a bottle of water and some paracetamol on the nightstand, that he realizes he never got Harry's number. Well, shit. 

***

 

Louis wakes up the next morning to an elbow in his back and a half-hearted, “sorry.” He lets out a little groan and turns to his other side. “Want a cuddle?” He mumbles out, already lifting his arm up. Lottie makes a noise of assent and wiggles in closer until she can fit herself under his arm. He rubs at her back for a moment before frowning. “Why are you still wearing your dress? You’re gonna get glitter all in me bed.” 

“Shut up,” Lottie whines as she swats at his face. “Why are you so loud? Go to sleep.” Louis lets out a huff but does as he’s told. 

 

The next time Louis wakes up, it's to the smell of bacon and eggs. He heaves himself out of bed after he stretches and makes his way to the kitchen. Lottie's putting food on plates for them and she's, thankfully, changed out of her dress. 

“Time is it?” Louis asks after she's handed him a plate. 

“Half ten, I think. You don't have training today right? ‘Cause if you do, you're really late.”

“No, it's Sunday. We don't go sundays.” They eat the rest of their food in silence. Once they've finished, Louis grabs both their plates and takes them to the sink. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Alright, I guess. Kinda like death, but not quite.” 

Louis snorts as he rinses off their dishes and puts them in the dishwasher. “Did you drink all the water I left? And take the tablets?” 

Lottie hums. “Yeah, I did. Thanks.” She's quiet for a moment before she asks, “Did I really have to be carried out of there, or was that a dream?” 

“‘Fraid not. You did have to be carried out. Sorry, Lots.” Louis turns around and leans against the counter. He lets out a little laugh when Lottie drops her head to the table with a thunk. “Aw, c’mon, it wasn't that bad. You didn't throw up on anyone!” 

“Woo,” she deadpans. “Sorry. I didn't mean to get that pissed.”

“It's alright. I don't mind,” Louis says with a shrug. “I met a fit bloke,” he tells her after a beat. 

She picks her head up and turns to him quickly, too quickly if the way she holds onto her head after is anything to go by. “You did? Tell me! Are you gonna see him again?” 

Louis tries to be casual about it for all of three seconds before his face breaks into a grin and he crosses the kitchen to sit by her. “Okay, so, his name's Harry, yeah? And he's got really nice hair. Like, long and curly. And beautiful green eyes, which I'm sure look much better when they're not hiding behind a mask. Legs for days, really fit- well obviously. He carried you for, like, 10 minutes, at least. And, honestly, the cutest little bum. Not too big but not too small. Ten out of ten.” 

Lottie stares at him for a few seconds before she starts laughing, hands coming up to hide her face and shoulders shaking. “Oh my god,” she says between laughs. “Your face. You're already so gone, Louis.” 

Louis makes a noise of protest. “Excuse you. I'll have you know, I am definitely not. I'm totally fine.”

“Sure you are,” Lottie says and pats him on the head. “So, are you gonna see him again?” She asks once she's gotten her giggling under control. 

“I don't know. Probably not? I forgot to get his number,” Louis mumbles sadly. 

“That's alright. What's his last name? I'm sure I can find someone who knows him.”

Louis frowns down at his hands. “I don't actually know it. We didn't get that far, I guess.” 

Lottie snorts and pats him on the head again. “It's alright. I'm sure you'll see him again. Maybe. Probably.” 

Louis rolls his eyes because, “that sure sounds convincing.”

Lottie just waves him off. “Anyways, are you gonna come to the winter fashion show? It's this coming weekend, I think. Maybe next.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“Oh, c’mon, Louis, please,” she all but whines. “It's my first one with this company. It'd help a lot just to know you're there.”

Louis spares her a glance and, damn, she's brought out the puppy dog eyes. “Ugh, fine. Do I have to be there the whole weekend? I'd like to have a proper break from training for once, y’know?” 

“It's not gonna take the whole weekend, Louis, honestly,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “But, no, I guess not. Just Saturday should be fine. Maybe you could stay Saturday night and we can hang out Sunday after it's done? I won't make you go to both. Promise!”

Louis lets out a heavy sigh, but agrees nonetheless. 

***

 

Louis would very much like to be anywhere but here. Fashion has never really been his thing and he’s fairly certain he’s not going to start liking it now. He was late to the show, but apparently not late enough for it to matter. No one had even taken their seats by the time he showed up. They’re all sitting now, thankfully. Or not so thankfully, considering he somehow ended up second row, which means he can’t spend the entirety of the show on his phone because that will _definitely_ be all over the tabloids. 

He folds his arms and leans back in his chair while he waits for the show to start. Well, he was fairly certain it was already starting because the lights dimmed and the music started up, but it’s been nearly two minutes and nothing’s happened yet. Truly awful, he thinks. And it’s not like he has anyone to keep him company, either. Lottie’s backstage doing makeup and both of his mates looked at him like he was insane when he invited them along. So. Here he is, alone and bored out of his skull. 

The show starts after another two minutes of the god awful music and obnoxious strobe lights blinking in his face. And, like, it’s all very anticlimactic, he thinks. The backdrop is this giant, shimmering glass...thing, but the models that come out of this contraption are wearing muted tones. And leather. Lots of leather. Louis doesn’t know how Lottie does this all the time, honestly. 

By the time it’s almost halfway through, there’s really only one thing Louis would even consider buying, and it’s probably more to do with his love of stripes than the way the jumper was presented. He has a lot of respect for all these models, though. For one, walking in heels that high has got to be atrocious for their feet- the men and women have basically the same shoes, heels and all. Aside from the heels, which make him cringe at just the thought of walking in them, there’s only been a couple looks that don’t involve skin-tight leather trousers. He thinks that’s probably more uncomfortable than the shoes. 

It’s only a few minutes later when something- or rather someone- catches his eye. The model’s wearing the same shoes as all the others, except his are silver and they match the silver, sparkly coat he’s wearing. He’s wearing black skinnies and a red and black striped jumper underneath the coat. His hair's pulled back into a bun, so that’s not really something Louis can take into consideration, but. Legs for days, nice, plush lips, defined jaw, and if Louis were a betting man, he’d bet this model has green eyes. It’s not till the model’s turned around that Louis’ certain. It’s _Harry_. He’d remember that bum anywhere.

Louis leans forward in his seat, now much more invested than he was five minutes ago, and watches as the other models pass. He’s fairly certain he’ll get to see Harry again, don’t all the models walk twice? And once he does, he’ll confirm it’s him, somehow, and then. Well, then he’ll come up with a plan to get backstage so he can see his boy. Wait. Not his boy. Harry. So he can see Harry. Right. 

When the model comes out again, Louis has never been so sure he’s right. It’s definitely Harry. His hair’s not up in a bun anymore, his curls falling around his shoulders. He’s wearing a simple suit with a red skinny tie (which is honestly the most color Louis has seen all night. Seriously?) and Louis thinks it could probably be the exact suit he wore to the masquerade. It’s probably not, considering, but still. It’s Harry. He’s one hundred percent sure. Now all he needs is a plan. 

***

 

Turns out, it's really not that hard to get backstage. All he had to do was walk behind a curtain. Which is good, seeing as his plan didn’t really involve more than pleading and maybe a little bribery. Everyone on the crew is frantic with trying to get things back in order and the models are all trying to get away from them and get their own clothing on. It's all very exciting, but not what Louis’ here for. 

It takes him a ridiculous amount of time to find Lottie in all the chaos but once he does, he latches onto her in a giant, impromptu hug. She squeaks and bats at his hands until she figures out that it's just Louis. “Louis! I'm glad you came,” she tells him as she wraps her arms around him to hug him back. 

“Told you I would, didn't I? Anyway, that was great. I mean, I don't know much about fashion, but I'm sure that was top ten.” 

Lottie hits him on the shoulder. “Great pep talk, thanks.” Louis smiles brightly. “Did you enjoy it at least?” 

“Do you want me to lie?” Lottie rolls her eyes. “Only kidding! It was fine, yeah. Not really my style, but I did see a couple things I liked.” 

“All the stripes?” Lottie asks, distracted by putting her things away. “Figured you'd like them. A couple of the blazers too, yeah?” 

Louis hums. “Yup. And that motorcycle jacket was sick.” He watches Lottie put her makeup away and while she's organizing her lipsticks, blurts, “And Harry. Saw him, too.”

Lottie drops the couple tubes of lipstick she was holding and turns to him, giddy expression on her face. “Oh, did you? Your Harry models for YSL?” 

Louis shrugs. He had no idea that was the show they were at, but, “Looks like it.”

“That's great! I'm sure we'll be able to find him, then. One of the others ought to know,” Lottie tells him before grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him along behind her. She stops at what Louis assumes is the hair station and asks one of the ladies, “Have either of you seen Harry? Curly hair, green eyes, cute bum.” Louis might hate her. 

One of the girls giggles and pops her gum. “Yeah! He was changing out of the clothes last I saw him. Should be done now, I think. Probably won't go for you, love. If you catch my drift,” she finishes with another giggle. 

“Not for me! Thanks, though,” Lottie says with a wink and head nod in Louis’ direction. He definitely hates her. At least a little bit. 

She keeps pulling him along until they stop in front of a row of makeshift rooms blocked off by curtains. Only one of them is closed, so she peeks in all the other rooms, stopping at the first to last. “Hello, you wouldn't happen to be Harry, by chance, would you?”

Louis is definitely hiding behind Lottie, crouching down a little to make sure he can't be seen, so he can't be sure if it's the right person or not. That is, he's not certain until Harry speaks up. “Yes? Can I help you?” He asks, clearly confused. 

“Oh, great! Hi, Harry, thank you for carrying me to the car. I'm glad I didn't throw up on you. Remember Louis?” She says and then tugs Louis forwards until he stumbles into the little room. “Okay, awesome, bye!” And then she's gone. _Definitely_ hates her. 

Harry’s standing in the corner of the room, shirt half buttoned with his fingers hovering over one of the buttons like he was still in the process of getting dressed when they intruded. Which, that probably is the case. Oops. Louis shoves his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and gives Harry a little smile. “So, um, hi,” he says with a little wave, or as much of a wave he can manage with his hands still tucked in his pocket. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“I- um, hi?” Harry’s just staring at him, fingers still paused, and mouth hanging open a little. It’s kind of concerning Louis, now, because maybe Harry doesn’t recognize him? _That_ would sure be awkward. And a little embarrassing. “I don’t, um, hi?”

“You already said that,” Louis murmurs around his smile. 

“Oh, yeah. Um..” Harry lets his hands fall to his sides. His brows furrow, face full of concern, and he asks, “You’re not, like, stalking me, are you?” 

Louis can’t help the loud cackle that escapes his lips and immediately slaps one of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my god, Harry, no!” Louis tells him, a little breathlessly, giggles still bubbling out of his chest. “Lottie’s one of the makeup artists here today and she somehow got me to agree to come. I had no idea you modeled for, uh.. this brand until I saw you walk.” 

 

“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, eyebrows still pinched. He lets what Louis just said sink in before a bright grin takes over his face and he goes back to doing up the buttons on his shirt. “Well, that’s alright, then. I’m glad you could make it. Did you have fun?” 

“Not really, no. I don’t think fashion is much my thing,” Louis says, honest, with a shrug. A little frown tugs at Harry’s lips and _that_ will never do. “Had more fun when I realized you were in the show, though. If that counts for anything.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, bottom lip pulled between his teeth again. 

Louis hums and gives Harry a somewhat subtle onceover. “Yup. You’re beautiful. Was my favorite part of the show.” 

Harry scoffs and sits down on the ground to tug on his boots. “You’re just biased.” Louis makes a noise of protest, which causes Harry to roll his eyes and let out a little huff. “Alright, alright. Thank you. You’re sweet.” 

“Quite. And you’re welcome.” Louis offers Harry a hand up once he’s finished putting on his boots. Harry doesn’t let go, not even when he’s gotten to his feet. “Thanks again for the other night. That was really nice of you. Poor girl thought she was dreaming.” 

“Yeah, ‘course. Probably wishes she was dreaming. I’m sure that’s not one of her high points.” 

“It’ll make for a good story, though, yeah?” 

Harry giggles and nods. “Yes, I’m sure she’ll win many people over with that story.” 

“Hey, you never know,” Louis says with a smile and a shrug. They stare at each other for a few moments, Harry’s lower lip between his teeth again and their fingers still tangled together, before Louis clears his throat. Now or never, he thinks. “Wanna go get a drink with me?” 

“Like, right now?” 

“Was planning on it, yeah.”

“I, um. I haven’t even eaten yet,” Harry says dumbly. And, like, okay. Louis can work with that. 

“Dinner, then?” He asks hopefully. 

Harry looks at him, like he’s sizing Louis up or something, but it's not long before a wide grin stretches across his face and his eyes light up brighter than the sun. “Yeah, alright. Dinner sounds nice.” 

***

 

Louis takes him to a hole in the wall Greek restaurant he's been to more than a handful of times. It's one of his favorite places in London and he always tries his best to stop in when he's in the city. He's been there enough that as soon as he walks in, the hostess takes him to the table he usually requests. It's one in the back corner, quiet, and away from prying eyes. 

Louis orders the chicken souvlaki, like he always does, and a bottle of red for them to share. It doesn't surprise him in the least when Harry orders the vegetarian dolmades, but that doesn't stop him from wrinkling his nose because, “Really, Harry? You're eating _leaves_ for dinner?” 

Harry does his best to look affronted. “Well, excuse you. They are very delicious, stuffed _leaves_ , thank you very much.” 

“Mm, then how do you explain the salad? Your whole meal consists of leaves.”

“I got rice too.”

“Oh, right, excuse me. How could I forget the rice?” 

“I dunno, mate. You're excused,” Harry tells him, one eyebrow quirked and arms folded over his chest. 

Louis lasts all of two seconds before he's giggling into the back of his hand. “You're cute,” he blurts out accidentally.

Harry blushes at the sudden compliment and looks down at where he's fiddling with his napkin. “Thank you,” he mumbles out. “So are you.” 

“I'd like to think handsome, actually. Something more manly and rugged than _cute_.”

That makes Harry roll his eyes. “Yeah, alright. Handsome. You're very handsome.” 

Louis smiles at him, appeased. “Thank you.” 

 

They're halfway through their meal when Harry asks, “If you don't like fashion, then why'd you come to the show?” 

Louis finishes chewing his bite of chicken and swallows before answering. “Lottie's one of the makeup artists, yeah, and it was her first show for this brand so I told her I'd go. Shock of me life to see you on the runway, honestly.” 

“Good shock, I hope?” Harry mumbles around his wine glass. 

“Absolute worst. I was pretty sure you'd be a lingerie model with legs like those, to be honest. Imagine my surprise to see you on a runway fully clothed,” Louis says as serious as he can manage. 

Harry very nearly chokes on his wine. “I'm- you-” he stops talking in favor of clearing his throat, eyes wide and cheeks rosy. 

Louis hums and leans back in his chair, arms folded over his chest. The epitome of casual, he is. “Yeah, definitely.” He lasts about four more seconds before he lets a grin take over his face. “I'm kidding. I didn't really think of it, honestly. Well, not until just now and I can't say I'm opposed to that mental image.”

Harry clears his throat again and fidgets with his fork. “I'll have to remember that, then. I don't think I'm entirely opposed either,” he says, cheeks still pink, but eyes glinting from where he's looking up at Louis from under his lashes. And. Well. Okay. 

***

 

Monday morning Louis wakes up to seven texts from Lottie, three from his mum, two from Harry (he finally remembered to get his number), and a few missed calls from Niall. Before he gets a chance to read through them all, his phone rings again. It's Niall, of course. “Hey, Nialler. What's up?” 

Niall makes a strangled noise and rushes out, “Have you looked at the papers today?”

“Uh, no, mate. Just woke up actually. Why?” 

“Well, it appears you've gotten yourself a hot date,” Niall tells him cheerfully. 

It is far too early for this, Louis thinks. “It is far too early for this. What are you on about?” 

“Oh, y'know, just your face and that of one Harry Styles plastered all over basically every tabloid. Want me to read you the headlines? They're pretty great. Some even went all out with the gay puns.” 

“Jesus Christ. No, Niall, thanks, but I'll pass.” Louis scrubs a hand over his face. “Is it bad?” 

“Not really, no. From what I can tell, it's all just speculation still, but not in the bad way. In the ‘I hope this is legit because wouldn't that be beautiful,’ kind of way.” 

“What does that even mean?” Louis asks. Niall just laughs and hangs up. Well, alrighty then. 

Louis goes into his messages and clicks on Harry's thread, ignoring the rest of the unanswered messages for the time being. The first message consists of three side-eye emojis and says, ‘ _I think you might've underestimated your star power a bit_ ’ followed by a frowny face and a star. The next says, ‘ _sorry if this is bad for you. Should've thought of that. :( sorry_ ’. 

Louis rolls his eyes and types back, ‘ **don't be silly. It's not bad I don't mind. :-)** ’, then chucks his phone back on the bedside table. He decides to take a shower and figures the rest of the messages can wait. 

Whatever’s in the papers undoubtedly has to be from Saturday. After they’d finished eating, Louis had taken Harry to a frozen yoghurt shop for dessert. They’d huddled together in a quiet corner of the shop as they ate their frozen treats and shared stories from their lives. It was great, really, and easy and comfortable and something Louis didn’t plan on letting go of any time soon. Once their desserts were long gone and the sky was painted black, Louis had walked Harry back to his flat. They had shared a sweet kiss at Harry’s door before Louis left with the promise of a next time. 

Louis had spent the night and the rest of the weekend at Lottie’s like he’d promised. It probably wasn’t exactly what she had in mind, considering he spent a good majority of it glued to his phone waiting for Harry to text him back. She didn’t seem too bothered by it, just teased him mercilessly until he set the phone down and gave her his undivided attention.

 

Once he’s freshly showered and clothed in a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, he goes back to his room and grabs his phone. There’s another message from Harry, which he reads while pulling on his socks. _you sure it’s alright? I really dont want to cause problems or anything. :(_

Louis rolls his eyes again and tugs his socks up properly before responding. **positive. really.** And then, because he’s a giant dork, probably, he sends another message that says, ‘ **why dont you give your smilies noses? he can’t breathe, harold. honestly.** ’ He checks the time on his phone and sees he’s still got about thirty minutes before training starts. Just enough time for breakfast, he thinks. He sticks his phone in his pocket and makes his way into the kitchen. 

After he’s got the kettle on and a bowl of cereal ready, he digs his phone back out and giggles at Harry’s response of, ‘ _:^) is this better for you lewis? poor smiley probably gets picked on bc his nose is so big. :^( sad_ ’. 

‘ **aw, poor babe** ,’ Louis texts back before deciding to call instead. He takes a bite of cereal while he waits for Harry to answer and only _almost_ chokes in his haste to swallow when Harry picks up quicker than he planned. “Hey, love. What’ve you got going today?” Louis asks while he pours himself a cuppa. 

Harry hums on the other line. “Have to do part of the editorial shoot for this new line they’re doing. I think they’re doing the rest tomorrow, maybe. Not too sure. What about you?” 

“Training, of course,” Louis tells him and then takes another bite of his cereal. It’s quiet on the line, save his crunching, before Louis mumbles around his mouthful, “You busy this weekend?” 

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full, Lou,” Harry admonishes, but still somehow manages to sound fond. “I don’t think so. Why?” 

“Well, I was thinking,” Louis says after he pointedly swallows. “I think my first start is this weekend. I wanted to see if you wanted to come up and, I dunno, maybe come to the game?” He takes a sip of his tea while he waits for Harry's response, blowing on the liquid first to cool it down a little.

Harry's quiet for a couple beats and then, “I'd really, really like to, Lou. Are you sure? I don't want to cause any problems for you.” 

Louis can't hold in his scoff at that. “It's really not a problem, H. The tabloids are just freaking out because I don't usually date. I can't remember the last time I did, to be honest. It's fine. I don't mind,” he explains with a little shrug even though Harry can't see him. “I'd, um- even if it were a problem, which it's definitely not, you're worth it.” 

He can hear the smile in Harry's voice when he replies with, “Yeah, alright.” 

*** 

 

To say that Louis is nervous is an understatement. He's played more games than he can count, but they were all for his home team, which is a few leagues lower, or the under-21’s when he was younger. It's just. It's his first proper game, his first _start_ in the Premier League and, more than that, Harry's here. 

He'd picked Harry up at the train station this morning and taken him to breakfast. They'd talked over whether or not they wanted to be committed to this.. Relationship or whatever it is and had both decided that, yes, they do. With both of them having certain images to uphold, it was a talk they were forced into having, regardless of whether or not it was too soon. 

Except, the thing is, even though they've only technically been on two dates, Louis’ never been more sure of anything in his life. Not even footie. It's a bit overwhelming, to say the least, but exhilarating and exciting regardless. 

When they'd gotten to the pitch, Louis had introduced him to the team, which went surprisingly well and even quelled some of the nerves in his stomach. Now, Harry's sitting with the rest of the WAGs (“that's kind of weird, don't you think? Since, like, I'm technically a boyfriend.” “HAB just doesn't have the same ring to it, though, does it?” “What about SAP?” “...” “Spouses and Partners.” “Oh my god. You truly are a SAP.”) and Louis’ in the locker room with the rest of his team. It should be an easy game, an at home match against QPR, but his stomach still feels like it's been tied in knots. 

He tries to push that aside, tries his best to listen to their manager’s pep talk, but there's not really anything that's helping him feel calm. Not even when Mata claps him on the shoulder and tells him he's going to nail it. He stays stuck in this bundle of nerves, in the constant downward spiral in his head, even as they're led out of the locker room and onto the pitch. 

But it's like- After the game has started and he's forced into action, that's really the only thing that's on his mind. All of his nerves about starting, his thoughts of Harry watching him, dissipate and it's like muscle memory takes over. He doesn't have the time or the capacity to think of anything _but_ playing and making sure he helps his team keep a clean sheet. 

The first half passes in a loud blur. QPR only manages to get anywhere near their box a handful of times, and each time it's dealt away with a swift tackle or a turnover. Half of the tackles were done by Louis himself and he really couldn't be more pleased with himself. When they shuffle into the locker rooms at half time, they're up 1-0 thanks to a brilliant goal by Martial. 

They take a couple minutes to unwind before their manager comes in with a half-hearted pep talk. As long as they keep their defense up, and don't let their egos get in the way, they're sure to make it out with a win. 

And they do. Win, that is. 

***

 

The first thing Louis does after the final whistle is blown, is seek out Harry. He spots him easily enough, probably because he's dancing around like a maniac and yelling Louis’ name like he's his own personal cheerleader. After he congratulates all his teammates, he makes a beeline for Harry. 

As soon as Harry sees him, his face lights up and he wraps Louis up in a bone crushing hug. “You did so great, Lou! That was so amazing! Your first start and you _won_!”

Louis lets out a little chuckle and turns his face into Harry's neck. “Oh, stop. I didn't even score the goal or anything. The whole team is great.”

Harry hums and squeezes him before letting go and pulling back enough to look him in the eye. “Yeah, maybe. The team is really great, but so are _you_. I'm proud of you, Lou. It was amazing. _You're_ amazing.” 

“Thanks, love,” Louis says, cheeks pinking under his praise. He hesitates briefly before he asks, “Do you think- Can I kiss you?”

“You can kiss me whenever you want, Lou,” Harry mumbles shyly. 

Louis smiles at him, small and private, then cups Harry's cheek with one of his hands and leans in to seal their lips. It's soft and gentle, sweet the way their lips move together. Harry's arms go around his waist, one hand moving tentatively up and down his back. His lips are soft against Louis’ and cold from the wind. The only thing stopping Louis from pressing against Harry harder and licking his way into Harry's mouth is the fact that this, for some stupid reason, will probably make the papers. Plus, like, children. 

When they pull away, Louis’ a little breathless and Harry's cheeks are dusted pink, a wide smile on his face. “You should come to mine for dinner,” Louis tells him while tucking a stray curl behind his ear. 

“Yeah, that sounds lovely.”

 

Since Louis isn't the best at cooking, they grab take away from one of Louis’ favorite Thai places. They eat curled up next to each other on Louis’ couch while reruns of Friends plays in the background. Once they're done, Harry cleans up their mess, despite Louis’ many attempts to get him to not. Harry returns quick enough and folds himself back into the space beside Louis, knees tucked up to his chest with his head on Louis’ shoulder and one of his arms draped over his stomach. 

After a few more episodes of Friends, they decide on watching _Love Actually_. Turns out, it's a favorite for both of them. They're not really invested in the film this time around, though, because they've not even gotten halfway before Harry's sat himself comfortably in Louis’ lap, knees bracketing Louis’ hips and his back turned to the tv. 

Louis’ hands find their way to Harry's hips, fingertips pressing into the skin there underneath his shirt. Harry's arms circle Louis’ neck and his tongue darts out to lick his lips before he's closing the space between them and fitting his lips against Louis’. It starts out gentle and tentative, both of them getting acquainted with the other, before Louis’ tongue swipes across Harry's lower lip. 

Harry opens up instantly, mouth yielding and letting Louis take control of the kiss. One of Louis’ hands goes up to tug at Harry's hair, tilt his head a bit to get a better angle. He nips at Harry's lips, revels in the little whine it coaxes out of him and the way Harry's hips rock down incrementally against his own. 

It's Harry who pulls away first, breathless and panting. His eyes have gone a bit hazy, his lips a deep red from their kissing. Louis brushes his hair away from his face with one hand, the other still curled around Harry's hip. “We should go to bed, yeah?”

Harry quirks an eyebrow at him. “And what do you mean by that, Lewis?”

Louis rolls his eyes and pinches Harry in the side. “I mean, we should go to _sleep_.”

“Mhm, I'm sure.” That earns him another pinch to the side, which makes him squeal and bat Louis’ hand away. “I'm just saying, I'm a classy man. Don't put out until the third date, at least.” 

“Isn't this technically our third date?” 

Harry thinks for a moment, brows furrowing. “No, because one of them was just this morning. So, I'm considering it a continuation.”

“Ah, right. Of course,” Louis says with another roll of his eyes. He kisses Harry's forehead and pets at his sides. “Doesn't bother me none, in case you were wondering. I'll wait however long you want.”

“Yeah?”

“‘Course,” Louis tells him with a nod. Harry smiles at him beautifully before leaning in to kiss him again. It doesn't get as heated as the previous one, Louis pulling away before he can slip his tongue into Harry's mouth. 

They turn of the television and make their way to Louis’ bedroom. Louis gives him his own toothbrush and they brush their teeth side by side before falling into bed together. Harry makes Louis curl around him, says he prefers being the little spoon. Louis wouldn't have it any other way. 

 

The next morning they find out their kiss did, in fact, make the headlines. It seems the media is really into football when there's a model and a possible romance involved; even more so when it involves a gay footie player. No matter how long it's been generally accepted, it still gets a lot of press. 

Harry takes it better than Louis would have thought. His only comment being, “We look so good, Lou! Proper power couple and all that.” Which, Louis could definitely see that. Plus, it led to a really great, impromptu blowjob, so he's not complaining. (Apparently, a sleepover counts as a third date. Who knew?) 

***

 

Harry staying over becomes a thing. Almost every weekend, sometimes full weeks if Harry hasn't got any jobs, Harry will go up to Manchester and stay with Louis. If Louis has an away game, Harry either tags along with him, or Louis stays at his flat in London. Louis even takes him to the away games for the Champion’s League, which Harry is really pleased about because he gets to go all over Europe. 

They get so used to being nearly attached at the hip that they don't really know what to do with themselves come Christmas holidays. Harry had promised to go home for two weeks from the week before Christmas to New Year's, same as Louis. It's not really a problem, except that they haven't been separated more than a couple days. Louis’ not sure how to cope without him for more than three days. Sure, he'd spent twenty-five years without, but now that he has him, he doesn't really want to let him go. 

They do go home, of course they do, but that doesn't stop them from constantly texting or calling the other. They'd decided to swap presents when they got back, much to Louis’ displeasure. He really likes presents, okay? But he did get (quiet) phone sex for his birthday, so he's not complaining too much. 

On Christmas Day, they don't get to talk hardly at all. Apparently, there's been a phone ban implemented in the Styles-Twist household. It's a good idea, actually, but Louis still isn't pleased with it. The only time they get to talk is later that night, whispering through the phone about the day's proceedings. 

By the end of the first week, Louis is very much over being away from his boy. He wants nothing more than to cuddle around Harry at night and wake up next to him in the morning. So, he comes up with a plan. His mum’s all for it, even helps with the planning process and gets herself involved in the plan itself. 

The day before New Year's Eve, Louis sets his plan is motion. It's really not that great of a plan, all things considered, but it'll do the trick and he doesn't think Harry will suspect anything. He's sitting at the breakfast bar across from his mum, waiting on a cuppa, as he dials Harry's number. 

“Hey, baby, whatcha up to?” Louis asks once Harry's picked up. 

Harry hums on the other line. “‘Bout to start a game of Scrabble with Gem. What's up?” 

“Oh, y'know, not a lot. Having a cuppa with me mum.” It's silent for a few moments while Louis tries to think of how to phrase his question. He'd already had it figured out, but now he's doubting himself. And, he probably forgot what he was going to say. Whatever. 

“Okay,” Harry says drawing the word out. “Any reason you called?”

“Why do I need a reason to call my boyfriend?” 

“Point.” 

Louis lets out a little huff before continuing. “Alright, there's a reason.” He very much ignores Harry's, “knew it.” 

“Listen, I was talking to mum and she was wanting to send you guys something to celebrate the new year,” Louis tells him. 

“What? Why would she do that? She doesn't have to do that. It's not necessary for her to spend money on us. She should keep that for all her babies.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I don't know, Harold. She just wants to.” 

“I can't accept that, Lou. I'd feel really bad,” Harry says, sounding genuinely concerned about Jay spending money. 

Louis makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and shoots a panicked look to his mum. Jay waves her hand, silently asking for the phone. “Okay, she wants to talk to you. Just a sec.”

“What? No, Louis! I'm not prepared for this! Louis, what do I even-” 

Louis ignores him and hands the phone to his mum. Honestly. Harry's talked to his mum and sisters multiple times. They all absolutely adore him, but he still gets nervous every time. 

“Calm down, dear,” Jay says into the phone. “I don't know why you're so nervous still. You're already practically a part of this family.” See, Louis thinks, they _adore_ him. 

Jay talks to Harry for a few minutes before she asks to speak with Anne. At which point, Louis groans and grabs his cuppa off the breakfast bar so he can go into the lounge. Their mums always talk for _ages_. 

 

It's nearly an hour later that Jay comes into the lounge and hands Louis the phone. She sits in the armchair across from him and lets out a little sigh. “I tried to get her to meet us halfway, but neither of us could come up with anything to tell Harry without actually telling him what was happening.” 

Louis shrugs. “That's alright. I don't mind driving down there.”

“Yeah, I know. Just would've been fun if we all could've gotten together.” Louis nods. It would've been nice. “Anyways, I did get the address and managed to tell her what you were planning on doing before Harry went looking for his phone. The address is on the counter, so you should be all set.”

“Thanks, mum,” Louis says, beaming at Jay, before he gets up to give her a hug. “You're the absolute best.”

“Obviously,” she tells him with a roll of her eyes and a grin. 

***

 

Louis’ navigating his way through Holmes Chapel when Harry calls him. And, like, the logical thing would be to answer, but he panics and ignores the call. He just doesn't know what he'd say if he were to talk to Harry while he's on his way to surprise him. It's hard for him to keep secrets from anyone, let alone Harry. 

He gets to Harry's house not ten minutes later and frowns when he doesn't see Harry's Audi parked out front. Well, shit. Instead of parking in the driveway, or even in front of Harry’s house, he decides to park along the curb a couple houses down and across the street. Hopefully, Harry won’t notice. Although, he doesn’t figure that a Range Rover on his street is very inconspicuous. Whatever. 

It’s only when he’s walking towards the house that he realizes there’s a possibility no one’s home. That would definitely throw a wrench in Louis’ plan. It seems his worrying was all for naught, because as soon as he knocks on the door Anne’s opening it with a wide smile on her face. He’s never actually met her, or Gemma, but the giant hug she wraps him in makes him feel welcome despite all that. 

Anne ushers him inside and makes him a cup of tea. “Harry’s just gone ‘round the shops. I’m pretty sure he’s gone out looking for something for you. You didn’t hear it from me, though,” she says and then mimes zipping her lips. 

Louis lets out a little laugh. “That would probably make sense. He called while I was about ten minutes out.” He takes a deep breath and mumbles, “I didn’t answer because I was too nervous I’d spill and tell him my plans. Oops.” He rolls his lips into his mouth. 

“Ah, well. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Perhaps you should call him now. Make sure he’s not suspicious or something.” 

“That’s probably a good idea.” 

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” she tells him and squeezes his shoulder on her way out of the room. 

Louis lets out a little sigh before dialing Harry’s number. “Hey, love,” Harry greets. “How are you today, sweetums?” 

“Sweetums, Harold? Honestly,” Louis says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m alright. How are you, baby?”

“I’m good, yeah. Just did a little shopping actually. On my way home, now. That’s why I called. I was looking at some Vans and was just gonna ask which you preferred. I picked some anyways. Hope you like them.” 

“You got me Vans?” Louis asks around his smile. “That was nice. I’m sure I’ll like them no matter what. It’s from you, so.” 

“Mm, very true,” Harry hums into the phone. Louis hears the car door shut and butterflies erupt in his belly. He doesn’t even know why he’s nervous, but. “How’re the girls and the little ones?” 

“They’re good, yeah. Rambunctious as always.” 

“Of course. Babies are like that, I suppose. Still want a bunch, though.” 

Louis smiles at that. He does, too. Obviously, they haven’t talked about things like that yet, but Louis decides he wants that. He wants that with Harry. Louis sucks in a breath at the thought. Well, that’s new. 

“You alright, love?” Harry asks him, concerned. Louis can just picture his eyebrows furrowing all cute like they do when he’s worried. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” Louis assures, slightly breathless. “I want a bunch of babies, too,” he says after a moment. 

“Yeah?” Harry asks and Louis just knows he’s smiling.

“Yeah.” Louis hears the sounds of Harry messing with his keys over the phone and then the sound of the key going in lock from where he’s sitting in the lounge. His stomach flip-flops even more, so he takes a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. “What're your plans for tonight?” Louis asks before Harry can ask if he's okay again. 

“Missing you obviously.” Giant sap, Louis thinks. Him too, though. Obviously. “Uh, I think my mum invited some friends over and I might invite some from high school.”

The door opens and Harry walks into the lounge. He stops in his tracks when he catches sight of Louis, eyes going wide and mouth slightly open. “Would you mind changing them?” Louis asks, a little quiet. Harry definitely hears him, though, because they're in the same room now and they're still on the phone for some reason. 

Harry nods his head quickly and hangs up the phone. He drops his shopping bags at his feet, his keys too, and then closes the gap between them in a few long strides. Before Louis’ got the chance to put his phone down as well, he's got a lap full of his boy. 

“Lou,” Harry breathes into his neck, arms wrapped tightly around him and his thighs practically squeezing Louis’ hips. “What're you doing here?” 

Louis finally gets with the program and tosses his phone on the couch next to them and wraps his arms around Harry, squeezes tight. “Missed you, baby,” Louis says into his hair. “Hope this was alright.”

Harry bites his shoulder softly. “Of course it's alright. Always wanna be with you.” 

That makes Louis smile. He buries his face in Harry's hair and inhales the scent of his boy; apples, his fancy cologne, and just _Harry_. “Always wanna be with you, too.”

“Your mum wasn't ever gonna send a gift, huh?” 

Louis shakes his head, messes up Harry's curls in the process. “Nope. Just a silly ploy to get your address. Only it didn't work because _someone_ is too sweet,” he mock complains with a pinch to Harry's side. 

Harry squeaks and nips at Louis’ neck in retaliation. “‘M sweet enough.”

“That you are, baby. The perfect amount, really.” Louis can feel Harry smile against his neck. He lifts his head from Harry's curls and tugs a bit at his hair. “Well, give us a kiss, then. Been almost two weeks without a kiss from my boy.” 

“Right, sorry.” Harry leans back and smiles dopily at Louis before kissing Louis’ cheek. “That better?” Louis pouts, so Harry kisses his other cheek. He shakes his head, no, when Harry asks again. Harry makes a show of rolling his eyes and then kisses Louis’ nose and his forehead, the skin underneath his eyes. 

“Cheeky boy,” Louis admonishes, then sets about tickling Harry. Harry squeels and ends up tipping to the side to try and escape Louis’ clever fingers. “Not going to get away that easily, Harold!” Louis tells him before straddling his hips and digging his fingers into his sides again. 

The sound of Harry's giggles is like music to his ears. Louis pulls back, finally, when Harry seems to be losing breath. “Didn't go too much, did I? You okay?” 

“Yeah, I'm good,” Harry says, slightly out of breath but eyes shining nonetheless. He puckers his lips and mumbles out, “Proper kiss, please?” 

Louis hums and pretends to ponder on it, index finger tapping against his chin, before letting out a sigh. “Well, if I must.” He leans down, rests his weight on his forearms by Harry's head, and finally seals their lips. It's not long before Harry's slipping his tongue into Louis’ mouth, Louis making a pleased noise against his lips, and deepening the kiss. 

They kiss lazily, their tongues tangling together and chests pressed tightly together, until they hear the sound of Anne clearing her throat. “Well, this is definitely more than a mother would like to see. Thought you boys were being too quiet.”

Louis pulls away with one final peck to Harry's lips and sits on the couch properly. “Sorry, Anne. Got a bit carried away,” he tells her, cheeks pinking a bit. 

“It's fine, love. Just please keep that to yourselves next time.” She folds herself into the armchair across from them and sips at her cup of tea. 

Harry sits up, then, and cuddles himself into Louis’ side. “Did Gemma already leave?” He asks while he tangles their fingers together. 

Anne hums around the rim of her cup. “Right after you went to the shops. Didn't want to have to say goodbye. She says it's always harder to leave then.” 

They keep up their conversation until Robin comes home and then Harry and Anne go off to the kitchen to make dinner. Louis goes back out to his car and parks it in the drive since his surprise is no longer being threatened. He grabs his bag out of the backseat and takes it, along with Harry's shopping bags, up to Harry's room, only going in the wrong room once. 

Dinner’s lovely. The four of them crowded around the small table that's set off to the side of the kitchen. Anne had made a proper Sunday roast, even though it's Friday, much to Louis’ delight. It's delicious, really, and they eat over light conversation. 

At around eight, the guests Anne had invited over all arrive, some of her friends and some of Harry's extended family. Harry introduces him to everyone and Louis tries his best to charm them all. He thinks it works, if the way Harry's beaming at him is anything to go off of. 

They drink too much champagne throughout the night and give each other a sloppy New Year’s kiss when the clock strikes midnight. They have sex in Harry's childhood bed that night, Louis’ hand covering Harry's mouth to keep him from making too much noise. He only feels a little bad about it. All in all, it was definitely a great surprise. Louis’d quite like to spend the rest of his New Years after this exactly the same way. 

***

 

They leave the next afternoon after tea and silently agree that they'll be spending the rest of their time off at Louis’ flat. Harry doesn't have work for the rest of January and the first half of February, much to Louis’ delight. He spends all of his time at Louis’. 

The only problem with Harry constantly staying at his flat is the fact that it makes planning his birthday surprise that much more difficult. He's not really sure what to do or what to get him, but he's determined to make it perfect. His perfect boy deserves the perfect birthday, he thinks. 

Apparently, as he finds out, Harry's actually really good friends with Sophia and Liam. After lecturing Liam about never introducing them, Louis asks him for help. Which means, Sophia ends up helping him and Liam ‘supervises.’ 

They decide that the perfect thing would be for Louis to make Harry dinner, seeing as Harry usually does all the cooking. He goes over the recipe at least a hundred times with Sophia and even does a few practice runs for her and Liam. It really has to be _perfect_. 

He goes out one day to find Harry a gift. It's a lot harder than he thought it would be. Of course he knows what Harry likes, it's just hard to decide on what he would really want. The only thing Harry has mentioned wanting were a few scarves from Burberry. So, that's the first place Louis goes. He gets him about four different ones, not really sure which Harry would like better and ultimately deciding why not get all of them. 

His next stop is YSL. Even though Harry models for them, he hardly ever gets to keep the clothes, much to his disappointment. He gets him some pinstriped trousers, a leopard print shirt, a pair of black Chelsea boots, and a long black jacket.

Louis’ on his way back to his car when he passes a jewelry store. And, like, he probably doesn't need to get anything else, but. He goes in. He's looking for a necklace, maybe a nice bracelet he could talk Harry into wearing, but the shop attendant ends up showing him a really nice watch. He gets it. 

The shop attendant also shows him their collection of promise rings. And, well, Valentine's Day is coming up soon. Plus, he'd very much like to have that kind of commitment with Harry. He gets one of those too. Then thinks perhaps, maybe, he went a little overboard. Oh, well. 

***

 

Louis wakes Harry up on his birthday with breakfast in bed. It’s not anything particularly great, not like his dinner will be, just some egg on toast with a cup of tea and a glass of orange juice. Harry beams at him anyways, so Louis thinks it’s alright. 

He takes Harry to see a movie after he’s properly awake and then takes him ice skating. Harry’s actually quite awful at it, truly terrible, but he just laughs every time he falls. Louis ends up taking his hand after he’s fallen at least ten times, which makes Harry beam. He still falls, though, and ends up taking Louis down with him. It’s still perfect. 

After they’ve finished skating, Louis shuffles Harry in the car and they go home. It’s nearing four-thirty and Louis has to get their dinner ready. He doesn’t even remember how long it’ll take to cook and now he’s concerned that he forgot to get everything he needs. Basically, he’s stressing over everything for nothing. Harry must notice because he links their hands over the gear shift and rambles on about nothing. His voice always soothes Louis and he’s pretty sure Harry knows that. 

When they get home, Louis relegates Harry to his bedroom and makes him promise profusely that he won’t come out until Louis comes and gets him. Louis goes into the kitchen, then, and sets about getting dinner ready. It doesn’t take as long as he had thought and he does, in fact, have everything he needs. He’s glad he’s prepared properly for once. 

While the chicken is baking in the oven, Louis decorates his dining table with a deep red table cloth and a bouquet of roses he’d gotten that morning while Harry was still sleeping. He fishes all of Harry’s presents (save the promise ring) out of the coat closet when he’s done and sets them in a pile on the dining table. Then, he grabs a couple of candles Harry’d brought over the last few months and puts them in the middle of the table. 

The oven dings just as he finishes and he scrambles to pull the chicken out. He cuts it and plates all of their food, then takes the plates to the table. There’s a special bottle of wine he’s been saving for this, some fancy red his mum had given him for christmas, so he retrieves it from the cabinet along with two wine glasses, places them on the table as well. When he’s done, he lights the candles and finally allows himself to take a deep breath. 

Louis goes into his bedroom and tells Harry he can come out now. Harry gives him a weird look, fondly exasperated, probably, and follows him out of the room. When he catches sight of the table, he sucks in a breath and turns wide eyes to Louis. “Lou, did you- you did all this?” 

“Yeah, I did. I hope it’s not too bad. Or too much, really.” 

Harry shakes his head and pulls him into a hug, buries his face in his neck. “No, I love it. This is great, really. Thank you.” 

Louis lets out a chuckle and squeezes Harry once before letting him go. “Maybe don’t thank me yet. It could be utter shite for all I know.” 

“Never,” Harry says fiercely. 

It makes Louis smile, makes butterflies erupt in his belly again for some strange reason, and he can’t resist leaning forward and giving Harry a gentle kiss. He pulls away after a moment and then tugs Harry over the table by his hand. “Always the gentleman,” Harry tells him when Louis pulls his chair out for him. 

Louis scoffs. “But of course. Only the best for my boy.” Harry beams at him. 

Dinner goes much better than expected. Somehow, he managed to cook the chicken perfectly, which he never seemed to do when he made it for Sophia and Liam. It was always overcooked at least a little bit, but it’s perfect now. After they eat, Louis brings out two red velvet cupcakes he got from Harry’s favorite bakery in Manchester and puts a candle on one so Harry can make his wish. Harry tells him he doesn’t need a wish because he’s already got everything he wants. Louis understands, shares the sentiment even. 

Harry opens his presents after, smile on his face never leaving. His cheeks have pinked a bit from the wine and his eyes are bright. He tries on all of the clothes Louis bought, puts the watch on right away, and gives Louis a mini fashion show. It ends in Harry wearing nothing but one of the scarves Louis had given him, one that’s a deep green, and, well, the fashion show is pretty much over after that. 

Louis’d never understood the term ‘making love’ before, thought it was a load of shite, honestly, but when him and Harry have sex that night, there’s no other way he’d describe it. As soon as he has that thought, he breathes out a shaky breath against the back of Harry’s neck where he’s curled around him, Harry sleeping peacefully in his arms. It’s just like. Love. Louis’ probably a little bit, or a lot a bit, in love with Harry. And he’s definitely, definitely okay with that. 

***

 

Louis’ sprawled out on his back on the couch staring up at the ceiling. He’s decidedly not pouting (Except, he totally is), which is how Harry finds him when he gets home. Louis hears the front door close and the sound of Harry kicking off his boots and setting his keys on the table by the door. 

Harry walks past the lounge and is heading for the bedroom when he spots Louis. He stops, pivots, and then hops over the back of the couch and sits himself on top of Louis, thighs bracketing Louis’ hips. Louis draws his legs up automatically, giving Harry something to lean back against. 

“What’s wrong, my love?” Harry asks him, hands on Louis’ stomach. 

“It’s just footie stuff. ‘M alright.” 

Harry’s eyebrows furrow and he frowns down at Louis, fingers petting at Louis stomach over his shirt. “I don’t believe that for a minute. What’s up?” 

Louis lets out a heavy sigh and throws one of his arms over his eyes. “I’m just, like, really worried about our next game. It’s next week, the day before Valentine’s Day actually, and I’m fairly certain we’re going to lose. Like, get trampled on and destroyed kind of lose.” 

“Why do you think that? You guys are good. Top of the table in the Premier League, leaders of your group in the round of sixteen. I don’t see how that would happen.” 

“True, but we're going against Bayern Münich and they haven't lost one game in the bundesliga. Only lost one this whole season, actually,” Louis tells him, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “We're so screwed. Lewandowski scored five goals in nine minutes, Harry. Jesus Christ. This is awful.” He groans pitifully. 

“Mm, I still think you guys have a good shot,” Harry says and taps his fingers against Louis’ stomach. “Your defense is really good, you've got some alright strikers. You can do this.”

“True.” Louis’ quiet for a moment and then lets out a little sigh. “I think I'm more nervous about, like, sharing the pitch with Philipp Lahm.” 

“Ooh, do you got a little crush on Lahm, then?” Harry asks, wide smile on his face. “It's the eyebrows, innit?” He wiggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly and digs his fingers into Louis’ sides. 

Louis bats his hands away and frowns. “No, you giant tit. There’s just so much he’s done for other people. Like, he was an ambassador for World AIDS Day three years in a row. And, he’s probably one of the main reasons that it's alright to be out in the footie world. He was given an award for his work for intolerance against homophobia in sports. All sports even. Not just footie. He contributed so much. And he started it all before being gay was even, like, a thing people wanted to acknowledge. It's stupid, but he's a little bit my hero and it makes me nervous.”

Harry hums and brushes their noses together. “Yeah, that was pretty amazing.”

“You think we'll do alright, though?” He can't help but ask. 

“Definitely. You're a great team. Even if you don't win, I know you'll all give it your best. And that's all anyone can hope for, really.”

“Baby?” 

“Yes, my love.”

“How can you be so sure?” Louis can't help but ask. 

Harry kisses the pout off Louis’ lips and links their fingers together over his chest. “Because you're the best in England right now. One of the best in the world. And, you know what else?”

“Tell me,” Louis says, little pout still on his lips. 

Harry raises Louis’ hands above his head and leans forward, keeps their hands connected and hovers over Louis. “They've got you. A natural born leader that they all look to when needed. You're one of the main playmakers and you always, always do your best, which just makes them all try that much harder.” 

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.” Harry leans that last little bit closer and seals their lips together. “You'll be amazing. I promise.” There's such conviction in Harry's voice that it makes Louis feel better, a little bit lighter. He can't help but believe him. 

“I maybe got copies of all their games so I can study up on them,” Louis whispers after a few minutes of cuddling on the couch with Harry. 

Harry cackles at that and kisses the side of Louis’ head. “‘Course you did. Footie marathon, then?” 

Louis nods solemnly. “Definitely.”

“I'll order takeout.”

They stay up ridiculously late watching (and fast forwarding through) half the matches Bayern played this whole season. Louis pays more attention to their attacks, of course, and it doesn't really help quell his nerves. But. At least he's prepared. And he's got Harry next to him the whole time, a solid constant, almost like an anchor, and that _does_ make him feel better. 

***

 

Louis brings Harry with him to Münich. He splurges and gets them a posh hotel suite because it's a couple days before Valentine's Day and his boy deserves the best. There are a few other things he has planned, but it's so hard to concentrate on anything but the game. 

The first day they're in Münich is spent practicing. It's much colder than Manchester, though, so he's pretty sure no one's really in it like they should be. The game’s tomorrow, unfortunately, so they don't really have time to fuck around. He tells them as much which results in a few groans, but everyone tries harder after that and they work at least an hour later than originally planned. 

He's exhausted when they get back to the hotel and it's all he can do to eat dinner before he's falling into bed. It's good he's so tired, he thinks, because he's not sure he'd be able to sleep otherwise; he's too nervous. Harry's really sweet about it, like he is about everything, honestly. He orders them room service so Louis won't have to go downstairs to the restaurant, then curls up around him in bed. Louis’ pretty sure he's never fallen asleep so fast. 

The next morning he wakes up far too early, nerves already setting in. It's only seven and their game isn't until that evening. There's not really much he can do, what with being in a foreign country and not really knowing where anything is. Harry decides they should go shopping and have a proper German meal, so that's what they do. 

When they do eventually end up at the Allianz, Harry sits as close to the pitch as he's allowed while Louis goes into the locker room with the rest of his team. The locker room is tense, to say the least. Everyone is so nervous because they haven't gone up against a team of this caliber in a while and if they don't win, well, their chances of getting through to the quarterfinals decreases a bit. 

After their manager and captain give them a somewhat inspiring speech, they all head out to the pitch. His nerves dissipate a little, but there's an unsettled feeling in the base of his stomach that just won't go away. When the whistle blows, though, he pushes that all aside best he can and moves into action. 

 

They don't win, but they don't lose either. They draw at 1-1, which basically means in order to get to the quarterfinals they have to win. It's a lot of pressure, but the smile Harry gives him when he finds him after helps calm him a bit. Instead of showering in the lockers, he decides to go back to the hotel with Harry. The promise of showering together, especially now, is too good to pass up. 

***

 

Louis wakes up the next morning to a mouthful of curls and his boy still curled in his arms. He extracts himself from Harry carefully and makes his way to the ensuite to relieve himself and brush his teeth. When he gets back to the bedroom, Harry's rubbing at his eyes, sleepy smile on his face.

“Morning, baby. Happy Valentine's Day,” Louis tells him, then jumps on the bed, bouncing right next to Harry's side. 

Harry curls in on himself, giggling. “Happy Valentine's Day.” 

Louis brushes Harry's curls away from his face and hovers over him before placing a gentle kiss to his lips. “C’mon, get up. We've got things to do.” 

Harry doesn't move, just pouts up at Louis, making Louis roll his eyes. He digs his fingers into Harry's sides until Harry's hiccuping laughs and yelling, “Alright, alright. I give! I'll get up!” Louis lets up, then, and places kisses all over Harry's face before getting up to get dressed, Harry doing the same. 

Once they're dressed and ready, they go to a little cafe they happened upon for breakfast. It would've been nicer to sit outside, Louis thinks, but it's far too cold in Münich at the moment to do that. So, they find a little table in the back and order something sweet for each other. 

After their breakfast, Louis takes Harry to get one of the gingerbread hearts that Münich makes popular during Oktoberfest. Of course it's not September anymore, but there are still a couple shops that'll do it for them. Louis gets him a medium sized heart with ‘H +L’ written in pink frosting in the center. It's adorable, really, and Harry has stars in his eyes the whole time. 

They walk around for a bit before Louis checks his watch. It's almost eleven, which means they have to go because Louis has _plans_. It's actually quite difficult for him to find a taxi and tell the driver where they're going without Harry hearing, but he manages. 

Within fifteen minutes they're at their destination. From the outside, it just looks like a regular cinema, ASTOR Cinema Lounge in big letters across the top of the building, which is great for him because Harry has no idea what he's got planned. It's a miracle he even found this place, didn't even know cinemas like this _existed_ , but he's so very pleased that they do and that they can be found in Münich. 

Louis tells the lady at the front his name and she tells him where to go. When they get in the room, it's like- well, it's like nothing he's ever seen before. There are five rows of absolutely _giant_ couches, if they can even be called that when they're this big, all with throw pillows and enough space for at least eight people to sit comfortably on each. 

Harry breathes out a quiet, “woah,” before taking Louis’ hand and leading him to the row of seating at the front of the theater. He maneuvers Louis into one corner and then folds himself next to him and cuddles around him. 

“You don't- I mean, I love cuddling with you, but we can sit anywhere you want. I rented it out for us, baby,” Louis tells him while he cards one of his hands through Harry's curls. 

Harry looks up at him with wide eyes and squeaks. “You- what? That must've cost a fortune, Lou!” 

Louis puts one of his hands up in defense. “It really didn't! The tickets don't really cost all that much and, honestly, it's worth it.” 

“Yeah, alright,” Harry finally says with a little pout on his face. “Still wanna sit here, though.” Louis just hums and hugs him closer to his body while they wait for the film to start. 

The film is actually quite good. It's in German, of course, but they've very kindly added English subtitles. It's a romantic comedy, Harry's favorite, and it seems very fitting for Valentine's Day. The most exciting part, though, is when one of the valets brings them each a glass of champagne and some chocolate covered strawberries. Harry's eyes are bright the whole time and he's almost giddy with excitement. It's amazing, Louis thinks. 

When the film is over, they walk around Old Town and visit most of the shops. Harry _really_ enjoys shopping. Louis’ never been a big fan, but he finds he doesn't mind so much when it's with Harry. That's how a lot of things go these days, it seems. 

They stop at the Viktualienmarkt, a farmers market, where Harry practically swoons over all the fresh produce. There's so much of it and there are things Louis’ never seen before, but of course Harry knows what everything is. Harry picks them out a couple fruits they could eat before tomorrow and they get a couple sandwiches. Louis tells him to keep their lunch, more like afternoon snack, light because he has plans for dinner. 

Louis takes him to Olympia Park, then, where they have an impromptu picnic on Olympiaberg, the little mountain in the middle of the park. They talk and eat the sandwiches Harry picked out for them and the fruits. They people watch for a bit and then lay down, fingers tangled between them, and make shapes in the clouds. It's still a bit chilly, but they stay huddled close to each other, sharing body heat. 

Just before the sun’s about to set, Louis hauls Harry up and pulls him toward the Olympic Tower after they've thrown away their trash. It takes ages to get to the viewing platform, it seems, and even though Louis trains nearly every day, he's starting to think he needs to go a little bit harder. But. 

They get to the platform just as the sun starts to set, the buildings almost glowing from the rays of the sun. The sky is tinted pink and red and orange on the horizon. It's beautiful, really, but Louis can't take his eyes off of Harry for more than a moment. “It's beautiful,” Harry breathes as he looks out at the city. ‘Yeah, you really are,’ Louis thinks. 

Apparently he's said that out loud, because Harry looks at him with soft eyes and a beautiful smile on his face. “So are you, Lou,” Harry breathes into the air between them before leaning forward and sealing their lips. Louis sighs into the kiss and threads his fingers through Harry's curls. 

They kiss for probably longer than acceptable in a family establishment. But. Neither one of them really mind. When they pull apart, Harry pulls him in close and they watch the rest of the sunset. On their way down the tower, Louis notices a restaurant and kind of wishes he would've planned to eat there instead. He still thinks his current plan is better, though. 

 

They catch a taxi back to their hotel and Louis’ so excited for Harry to see what he’s arranged that he’s practically buzzing with it. He turns to Harry with a giddy smile on his face, eyes shining. The confused look on Harry’s face just makes him smile wider and then he’s putting the key card into the reader and swinging the door open. He doesn’t even look at the room, already knows what’s been done, just keeps his eyes glued to Harry’s face and watches as Harry’s lips part and his eyes grow wide. 

Harry breathes out a quiet, “Lou,” before he’s pulling him into a tight hug and burying his face in Louis’ neck. Louis hugs him back, just as tight, then pulls him into the room and shuts the door behind him, locks the deadbolt just in case. Harry tugs him along to the little lounge area at the front of their suite where there’s a square dining table with two chairs. There are plates in front of each seat with a stuffed portabello for Harry and chicken and mashed potatoes for Louis. 

There are rose petals absolutely everywhere, even in the center of the table under the lone candle that sits there. Each place also has a glass filled with champagne, the bottle resting in a bucket of ice at the end of the table. Harry’s still just staring, eyes shifting between the table, the rose petals on the floor, and Louis, something like awe on his face. After a few more moments, Louis walks them over to the table, even goes as far as pulling Harry’s chair out for him. 

“Let’s eat, yeah?” Louis says once he’s sat in the seat across from him. Harry agrees with a nod of his head and then they both tuck into their food. They eat in mostly silence, Harry commenting on how good the food is and how amazing everything is and how happy he is. That just makes Louis really happy because all he wants is to make this boy happy. 

After they’ve finished eating and are on their second glass of champagne, Louis clears his throat and tells him, “I got you something.” 

Harry frowns at him, brows pinching together, and pulls at his bottom lip with his fingers. “You really shouldn’t have, Lou. You’ve already done so much for me today.” 

Louis just shrugs and gets up to retrieve the little box from his suitcase. It’s wrapped in pink paper with red hearts all over it and a little pink bow stuck to it. He hands it over to Harry and can’t help but fidget when he gets back to his seat. Harry turns the box over in his hands a couple times, even shakes it to try and figure out what it is. Louis tuts at him. “What if it was breakable, Harold?” 

“Oops,” Harry mumbles, cheeks pinking as he carefully unwraps the box. Of course he’s one of those people that tries to unwrap gifts without tearing the paper. It drives Louis mad, but it also is kind of endearing, so he waits as patiently as he can. 

When Harry’s got the box out of the paper, he opens it and Louis can hear his breath catch. Louis rushes to explain. “It’s not like- I’m not proposing. I mean, we’ve not been together long enough for that, but like, I’m a little bit in love with you. A lot a bit actually, and I saw that and couldn’t not get it. It’s kind of perfect for you- well, I hope it is. Anyways, it’s like a promise ring? Because I’m serious about this, about us, and I want you to know that and know that I love you and, just, yeah.” 

Louis takes a much needed breath and fingers at his fringe while he waits for Harry to respond. It’s only a moment before a wide smile spreads over Harry’s face and he’s plucking the ring out of the box and sliding it over his middle finger on his right hand. “It’s great, Lou,” he says while examining the ring. “I love it. I love you.” He says the last bit looking right at Louis and Louis can’t help but get out of his chair and round the table so he can connect their lips in a sweet, gentle kiss. 

Harry pulls back, a little breathless, and tells him, “I’ve got you a gift too. Well, kind of. Just, um, could you, like, go into the bedroom? And I’ll give it to you there?”

Louis nods his head, a little confused, but places another kiss to Harry’s lips and one to his forehead before going into the bedroom of their suite. He flops down onto his back in the middle of the bed and folds his arms behind his head while he waits. It doesn’t take all that long, but he can feel himself drifting off when he hears the door close and Harry shuffle into the room. 

There’s nothing in his hands which just adds to Louis’ confusion. Harry’s fidgeting with his fingers while he shuffles closer to the bed and takes a deep breath then tugs at the hem of his shirt. “Um, I don’t know if, like, it’s actually something you want, but you had mentioned it before and I just- um.” He trails off and then pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. Louis is definitely very confused now. 

His confusion is quickly wiped away when Harry pops the button on his jeans and tugs them down and off his legs. And, like, Louis’ pretty sure he can’t breathe and he’s probably never gotten hard so fast in his life. His eyes are wide and hungry, tongue darting out to lick at his lips, while he stares at the sight before him. 

Harry’s wearing red, lacy panties, the head of his cock peeking out of the waistband already hard. He’s got red thigh-high fishnets on as well, showing off his long legs, with little black bows on the top to match the bow sitting in the center of his panties. “Can you turn around for me, baby?” Louis asks, surprised at how raspy his voice already is. 

Harry does, of course he does, turning around and clasping his hands in front of him so Louis can see the way the lace hugs his bum. They stop mid-cheek, giving the illusion that Harry’s bum is a bit bigger, the lace digging in a bit. And, like, Louis can’t stop himself from touching. He moves on the bed so he’s sat at the edge, legs dangling over the side, and grips Harry's hips, then tugs him between his spread legs. 

“So beautiful, love. So pretty.” Louis leans forward and kisses down Harry’s back, straining up a bit to start at the back of his neck. He leaves a trail of kisses down his spine till he gets to the edge of the lace and then licks along the waistband. Harry whines and pushes his bum back a bit. 

Louis takes the hint and lets his hands slide down to grip at his cheeks, spreading them a bit and leaning forward so his breath is ghosting over Harry’s hole. He breathes over him for a moment until Harry whimpers impatiently. “Okay, baby,” Louis breathes into the lace before closing the space between them and licking a stripe over his hole through the lace. 

Harry lets out a moan and his head drops forward as Louis continues to lick over the lace, getting it wet. Louis tucks a finger under the panties and pulls them to the side a bit, exposing his hole to the cool air. “So pretty for me,” Louis murmurs, almost reverent, as he rubs his thumb over Harry’s pink hole. He does it a few more times and then points his tongue and licks around Harry’s rim. 

He does that, teasing with his tongue, until Harry starts pushing his arse back against his face, trying to get his tongue inside. Louis gives in, then, and lets his tongue slip inside, licking along Harry’s walls. Honestly, Louis could lick Harry out for hours, has before, but the aching in his cock and how beautiful his boy is, is enough to set him into action. 

“Get on the bed, baby,” Louis whispers huskily in Harry’s ear after licking over his hole one more time. Harry listens and while he’s arranging himself on the bed, Louis goes over to their bags and digs through them until he finds their bottle of lube and a condom. He tosses them on the bed next to Harry’s head and tugs his clothes off, then settles himself between Harry’s legs. He props himself up on one of his forearms and stares down at Harry, the flush on his cheeks and chest, the way his eyes are glossy and his pupils are dilated. 

“So beautiful,” Louis can’t help but say again because it’s true and Harry should always know he’s beautiful. Harry whines then and leans up enough to pull Louis’ bottom lip into his mouth and roll it between his teeth. Louis groans into his mouth and slips his tongue inside, grinding down against Harry and hissing when the lace rubs against his cock. 

He leans back on his knees and grabs the bottle of lube to slick his fingers up. “Wanna leave ‘em on or no?” 

Harry thinks on it for a few moments, bottom lip caught between his teeth, before he shakes his head. “No, don’t wanna mess them up.” 

“‘Course, baby. You can take them off.” Louis waits until they’re off and on the floor somewhere before circling one of his fingers around Harry’s rim. He slides it inside easily enough, Harry whimpering a bit at the intrusion, and stretches him out enough to slide in another. 

It doesn’t take long for him to work up to three fingers, Harry panting beneath him and tugging at his own hair. “C’mon, Lou. Please. Want you in me now. Please, please,” he whines when Louis curls his fingers just right.” 

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” Louis tells him as he slides his fingers out. He rips open the condom and slides it on and slicks himself up a bit more, then pushes into Harry slowly until their hips are flush together. 

Harry breathes in deeply through his nose, lets out a shaky breath, and then nods. “You can- you can move.” 

Louis nods, too, and then pulls out slowly before thrusting back in fast and deep. He keeps that pace until Harry’s whining and moaning for him to go faster, go harder. Louis obliges and grips at one of Harry’s thigh as a kind of leverage, runs his thumbs over the top of Harry's fishnets. It doesn’t take much longer for Harry to come between them, clenching down tightly around Louis. Louis keeps thrusting into him and comes a few moments later when Harry starts clenching around him purposefully. 

After Louis pulls out and has tossed the condom, cleaned them both up a bit, he curls himself around Harry and buries his face in Harry’s neck. “I love you,” he whispers into Harry’s neck. 

Harry places his hand over Louis’, the cool metal of his ring making Louis smile, and murmurs back, “And I love you,” before they both drift off to sleep. 

***

 

After that, Harry actually moves properly in with Louis, much to Louis’ delight. Whenever he has a job in London, he either gets a hotel or kips with Liam and Sophia. Louis can’t think of anything he’d rather do than wake up next to his boy every morning and go to sleep with him every night. 

The weekend after Valentine’s Day was Fashion Week and Louis had somehow managed to get the weekend off so he could go watch Harry do his thing. He still isn’t a big fan of fashion shows, and he had to sit out the next two games in order to get the time off, but it’s definitely worth it when he sees Harry’s wide smile when he surprised him backstage with a bouquet of roses. He’d originally told Harry he couldn’t make it, but of course he found a way around it. 

Man U doesn’t make it to the quarterfinals for the UCL, but it’s not because they didn’t try their hardest. The second game against Bayern had gone into penalties and Louis definitely understands now why Neuer’s nickname is ‘The Wall’. Mata and, much to his surprise and delight, Louis himself were the only two to make their penalties. Bayern, however, made four out of five, Müller, Xabi, Götze, and Lewandowski all making their penalties. 

After the game, though, Lahm actually goes up to Louis and claps him on the shoulder and tells him he did a great job, that he’s a good defender and will only get better. Louis had to suppress a squeal and ran off to find Harry as soon as they’d finished talking. Harry was just as excited, of course he was, and it was definitely something he’ll never forget. It’s not so bad that they lost the game, then. 

At the end of the season Harry gets an award for WAG of the year, something Louis didn’t even know existed. The ladies had decided to actually change it to SAP because they thought it was adorable and, really, they’re all giant saps anyways. He thinks it’s probably a little bit because no one can say no to Harry, he’s so endearing, but it works out. Louis thinks it works out perfectly, actually. 

Man U does win the Premier League and the Capital One Cup, so the season isn’t all bad. It’s actually quite good, honestly. No matter what, though, Louis has his boy and he’s so in love sometimes he aches with it. Even if his footie career somehow doesn’t work out, he knows he’ll always have Harry by side. It’s a forever thing. And that’s all Louis really needs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> @erikabearikuh on tumblr. Come say hiii 
> 
> I made up all the stats for Man U the season I wrote it. They definitely didn't do that well that season. Sad. The Bayern stats were correct and Phillip Lahm really is that much of a badass. Unfortunately Xabi and Phillip Lahm retired last month. :'(( my babies.


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